Concentrated Sleeping Potions
by erre13
Summary: Not all answers come right away and some things are made clear only after the important moments have gone.


Concentrated Sleeping Potions

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world or any of the references.

Author's Note: An idea that came to mind because I wanted Tom Riddle to meet a strange person. I also wondered how the Dark Mark came into being. Please enjoy and review if you wish.

* * *

She was a strange one. He had often heard her name uttered through the halls and the Slytherin common room and seen her throughout the castle but made nothing of the female until he had finally focused on her from across the Great Hall. Her hair stuck up in places as if she had just gotten up and not bothered to brush it, her clothes constantly wrinkled, and dark colored bags hung under her eyes. If he didn't know any better he would have just labeled her as having gotten back from a night of fun with one of the other males members of the school, but he knew better. Every night and most of the early hours of the morning he would often see her walking the grounds of the castle; an insomniac at its purest. He stole glances at her from behind his rough bangs and watched as she fidgeted with her food, never eating more than a few bites at a time before laughing in a matter that made heads turn. Her eyes would flash in amusement while others avoided eye contact. Their eyes met and Tom found himself holding her gaze evenly, causing a curious expression to cross her face. The smile she gave him was borderline manic and he was glad that a row had broken out between a few Gryffindors shifting her attention from him to them.

After the transaction that had happened the night before he seemed to be catching the girl in the corner of his eyes wherever he went. He had known that she was in every one of his NEWT classes but had never really paid her any mind; she was a Ravenclaw and naturally deserved to be there. She had never raised her hand willingly, though knew the answer to any of the questions when asked. Always sitting in the back, it seemed she paid no attention to the seating assignments. He would occasionally see her staring out the window when he was assigned to pass back homework and exams. She was brilliant. Once he had gotten a glimpse of a sketch pad in her bag as she was packing up; she always seemed to move at her own haphazard pace. After their last class he didn't see her at dinner, in fact it wasn't until he made his rounds later in the night that he saw her outside by the lake, sitting. He made his way across the immense lawn of Hogwarts and stood a few feet behind her, enough so that he could hear her mumblings.

"Rip drip shred slash, can't waste a single drop. Gotta coat the wall a brilliant red." He had no idea what was spewing from her mouth. He took a step forward, wanting to scare her a bit but had stepped on a dry leaf. The girl had stopped moving immediately, he musings gone. Instead she turned so that her eyes bore deep into his and Tom's eyes widened at the blood that was splattered across her face and uniform. Her hands were covered with the viscous liquid and he could make out a pair of long ears from the carnage in her lap. As soon as her eyes took in his form a smile of lunacy formed its way on her lips, her white teeth contrasting with the dark juices. Tom made to back away slowly but her hand reached out and took hold of his ankle with blinding speed, succeeding in him losing his balance and falling. Her grip was tight and he pulled out his wand in self defense.

"Miss Hawthorne, what exactly are you doing? Release me immediately." She crawled towards him, her eyes never leaving his and Tom for the first time in a long time felt the tight constricting fist of panic. Hel Hawthorne seemed to be living up to her obvious Norse name; like the daughter of Loki at this moment the Ravenclaw seemed to be concealed in darkness and flesh while residing over the remains of the dead. He could feel the remnants of the rabbit on his skin where Hel had grabbed his person. "Release me this instant." His voice was cruel in its cold way and he pointed his yew wand right between her eyes. This girl's reputation did not mention her obvious madness.

"Did you know Muggles consider the feet of rabbits lucky? I've always wondered why." She didn't flinch when the tip of his wand lighted, fueled by his fear. Instead she added more pressure to his ankle. "What about human feet, wouldn't they be luckier?" When he felt her nails digging into his soft tissue he cast the first spell he could think of.

"Cruicio." She hadn't let go only tightened her grip and he could feel the waves that wracked her body. She didn't scream like he assumed she would, but laughed. Laughed that crazy laugh he heard every day during meal times. It was chaotic and strained and broken but still had an undertone that sounded like bells. He had never tortured a person to insanity but he was sure that this girl had been mad even before he came along.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." His eyes widened when she uttered his middle name, he had told no one. "Or perhaps I should refer to you as Lord Voldemort?" By this time the curse had stopped and she was straddling him, her hands grabbing hold of his left arm. She picked it up as if she had never seen such a thing before, staining his limb various shades of red. Hel then did something that made Tom pull away in a hurry; she licked the flesh of his arm with her tongue, the saliva thick where it met his body. This girl was absolutely mentally unstable and how they allowed her into Hogwarts was beyond him. The Head Boy had managed to push her off his body and stand, his wand raised between the two of them. She looked at him with amusement before turning back to her mutilated rabbit. She petted the bloody mess almost affectionately.

"Black would be better than red, easier to see, easier to fear." Tom Riddle had already stepped back and walked quickly across the grounds, away from the crazy girl. Only when he reached the Head Boy and Girl's common room did he look at his arm. He made a disgusted face and immediately went to the bathroom to wash off the abstract forms made from dried blood and dribble. The girl knew the name that only followers did but he didn't know what to do with her yet.

The next day he ignored her though he could feel her eyes on him in every class, every meal. In Potions they had been making the Draught of Living Death and was sure he hadn't been the only one to slip a vile full of the potion into his pocket, Hel had done the same. He knew what he needed his for, but he was curious as to why she needed hers. At the bell he made his way towards the door but was stopped by a tug at his sleeve, thinking it was just Avery or one of his fans he turned with a raised eyebrow. Hel's dark eyes met his and she pushed some of her messy hair from her eyes before thrusting a page into his hand. He looked down at a detailed charcoal drawing of a snake intertwined through a skull, its head slithering from the open mouth.

"What is this?" She took his left arm in a quick, abrupt motion and squeezed it as if reminding him of last night.

"Like I said, black is better than red, easier to see, easier to fear. A distinct image, an infamous sign, your legacy made quite plain: a Dark Mark." A Dark Mark. She had said the words in sensual whisper before releasing him and walking calmly out the door. Tom watched her go, his mind wondering exactly what he should do with her. He looked at the drawing again and mentally nodded his approval, slightly impressed. Yes, this would work.

He had been watching the coals die for quite some time now, the vile of Draught of Living Death twirling between his fingers. Hel Hawthorne. Seventh year Ravenclaw. Pureblood. Brilliant yet insane. Beautiful in her own frightening way. At the Black Lake he had noticed that she smelled familiar and after thinking on it he came to the conclusion that they were the same. He tapped his chin, he didn't need another person competing with him over world domination but he highly doubted that Hel wanted something like that. She was looking for something different. He had talked to Abraxas Malfoy earlier and used his knowledge of Pureblood aristocratic society to his advantage.

_"Hel Hawthorne. Mhmm. From what I know she comes from a long line of purebloods, a generation or so younger than the Blacks. I've heard that her grandfather is quite malicious and mistrustful. Since the death of her parents, murdered by Hel's accidental magic they say, she's been living with him since. I've seen her a few times at social gatherings when we were younger. I remember Mother muttering to Father about scars that ran across her shoulder and arms, from what they never said."_

Most likely she was either being abused or cut herself, a nasty habit. Though, it made what she wanted much easier to decipher. Hel Hawthorne wanted to die. It explained why she took the potion. But perhaps he was wrong. Tom stood, straightening his cloak before walking through the portrait hole. Just like he predicted she was sitting on the edge of the lake, much like before except this time she had company. The black Thestral looked at him with its chilly white eyes before looking back to the girl.

"You can see it can't you?"

"Yes."

"Since when though I wonder. Since you opened the Chamber of Secrets or since you murdered your father this previous summer? Or perhaps it was back at the orphanage in London where you first got a taste for death. Rabbits are quite delicious you know." Tom did not think she expected an answer but he watched her pet the creature's head waiting for her to ask him again. When he finally noticed that the time between the strokes was increasing until her hand just lay still on its head he became concerned.

"Miss Hawthorne?" No response. "Miss Hawthorne?" When he stepped closer the Thestral decided that this was the time he would go back into the forest. "Hel." Her name was foreign on his tongue, but not unpleasant. He stepped around her and exhaled in a hiss before crouching and grabbing the hand that held an empty vial. Taking a whiff he narrowed his eyes, a rather concentrated sleeping potion, not the Draught of Living Death that he had expected. He took her chin gently and lifted her head. Her eyes were somewhat glazed over, she was not completely under its influence which was strange. The concentration indicated that she should have been out in seconds.

"Hel, can you hear me?" There was a flicker of recognition that flashed across her eyes.

"Do you mind not being so loud? I can't seem to concentrate with your silky voice vibrating through my psyche." Tom raised an eyebrow, so he had a silky voice did he? And he thought this was the one girl that had not fallen for his charms.

"Pardon me for wondering about your mental and physical state." The moon made her pale, almost sickly skin glow. There was no blood tonight.

"I'm tired, can't remember the last time I've slept for more than two hours." Insomniac indeed. Tom took a seat next to her, looking out across the surface of the lake. The reflection of the night was interesting to say the least. She appeared saner than Tom had ever seen her, granted he had only started paying any significant attention to the a few days ago. Perhaps sleeping potions had this effect on her? A strange girl who seemed to live on the sidelines it seemed. He furrowed his eyebrows. She knew way too much for someone he had almost no contact with, and he doubted any of his men would blab to the crazy Ravenclaw. Hel didn't seem the type to leak secrets and the drawing that was now in his possession gave off the impression that she was encouraging him, but he could never be too careful. Perhaps he should kill her and make a Horcrux? Maybe he could use her instead, add her to his collection of followers. That particular idea had merit.

It was a bit chilly out he noticed, though Hel didn't seem to mind, or maybe she was too out of it to feel the temperature. Tom unclasped his heavier, outer cloak and placed it on her shoulders before placing a warming charm on himself.

"What are you going to do after graduation?" Her voice was laced with sleep, the potion was working now.

"I'm not in the mind to share my thoughts with you." Hel swayed a little bit.

"You're destined to do great things, I can tell. I on the other hand have no plans; don't even know if I'll last til graduation." She stood with shaky legs. She gave him a smile that caught him off guard; it was bright and sweet and looked like it belonged on her face. "You know, you're the only other person that's ever come to see me by the lakeside." She had tripped over a rock and Tom managed to catch her by the arm just before she touched the smooth surface of the lake. He took her by the waist and sighed at Hel's deep breathing. So, she was finally asleep. He brushed some hair from her face, somewhat of a fragile one in his opinion. He picked up his fallen cloak before he put an arm under her knees and moved the other to her back. He stopped as he noticed a figure in the distance waiting at the entrance. He cursed. Dumbledore.

"Mr. Riddle, it seems you've been following your duties." The Transfiguration Professor said as he roamed over Hel slowly, probably checking for foul play.

"Well I'm Head Boy for a reason. If you would excuse me Sir, I should get Miss Hawthorne to the Infirmary." He walked past Dumbledore without looking back and made his way down the hall towards the indicated wing. Upon arrival he placed Hel in one of the free beds and made to inform the resident Nurse but a hand in his made him pause. He looked at the offending wrist and noticed a thin bracelet that he knew to be related to St. Mungo's, it was worn by those who had allergies. Asphodel. He stored that away for future reference. Hel caught him looking.

"I'm allergic so unless I want to undergo intense pain I won't be drinking that Draught of Living Death anytime soon. Contrary to popular belief, and I know about what Malfoy said, I would very much like to live if only to see what you'll do with your life." Tom didn't know how to respond, it sounded like a confession. Sure, he was used to confessions of love from the fairer sex but none had been as subtle as this.

"I'll keep that in mind. I thought you were sleeping."

"I was. The dose wasn't strong enough I suppose." Tom frowned. He knew that she knew that any more concentrated and she would overdose.

"Go to sleep, I'll inform Madam Merryweather that you're here." The young Dark Lord stood and had almost made it to the door when Hel's voice stopped him. If she had spoken any softer he might had missed it.

"Good bye Tom." Why did it sound so final? He clenched his teeth, Merlin this girl was getting under his skin. In a moment he had grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to a sitting position, ignoring the look in her eyes. His lips crashed against hers brutally, possessively, fervently. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before Tom pulled away roughly.

"Good night Miss Hawthorne." Tom informed the Head Nurse who seemed irritated to be woken up but he had watched her check Hel before leaving.

He didn't see her the next day. Not during classes or mealtimes. He initially made nothing of it, hoping that the sleeping potion had fully kicked in but when Slughorn had ended class early on the Headmaster's request to come to the infirmary he became suspicious. During dinner the students were in uproar. News spread through the school grapevine like a wildfire in a dry wood.

"Tom, did you hear about that Hawthorne girl? Apparently she had an allergic reaction to a potion. She's been taken to St. Mungo's." Avery's voice sounded blissful. "Man, that girl was as weird as they come; wouldn't put it past her if she offed herself." Tom remained silent, staring across the hall to a now empty seat.

"Did they say which potion?" Malfoy had caught on to Tom's contemplative look, though it wasn't much different to his usual expression.

"Draught of Living Death. Nicked some from Slughorn's class." Tom's fisted hand went unnoticed. Something wasn't right. Perhaps it was idealistic of him but he wanted to believe that Hel had been speaking the truth when she had said that she wouldn't take the potion. After dinner he went down to the dungeons to speak with the Potions Professor.

"Excuse me, Professor Slughorn?" The large man looked up from his desk and stood hurriedly, a smile on his face.

"Tom, how good to see you. Come in, come in." Tom closed the door and stood in front of Slughorn's desk.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this Sir but I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about Miss Hawthorne. You see, on my rounds last night I found her asleep by the lake and took her to the infirmary. If I had known she would try to kill herself I would have said something, I would have—"

"Now, now Tom. There's no need for you to feel guilty. Miss Hawthorne's suicide attempt was not your fault. Madam Merryweather had such a difficult time diagnosing her because the girl wasn't wearing her medical bracelet, though they found the problem once they looked at her records. She's currently at St. Mungo's. Hopefully the Healers will be able to fix her up." Tom nodded. "She's in critical condition but will probably come back soon enough."

"Thank you Sir, it was just weighing on my mind."

"Anytime Tom. By the way, I would like to thank you for the sugared orange slices; you know how I adore them." Tom smiled his charming smile.

"You're welcome Professor." The future Dark Lord went back to the Head Boy and Girl's room and went to his bedroom locking it behind him. He put up a Silencing Spell and a Repellant Charm before blasting his pillow so that semi charred down fell like soiled snow. He picked up an empty glass and threw it against the door before sitting on his bed, his head in his hands.

His eyes flashed red.

Someone had tried to murder Hel Hawthorne and he was going to find out who.

Days passed with the news of Hel's suicide attempt dwindling until it was mentioned only in cases when no other gossip was available. Tom paid more focus to his studies and goals outside of school. It wasn't until Dumbledore said to accompany him to the Headmaster's office that the feeling of suspicion came back with full force.

"Headmaster Dippet, you wanted to see me?" The poor excuse for a Headmaster motioned to one of the seats in front of the wide desk.

"Yes, yes. Tom, good to see you. Of course you know about Miss Hawthorne, terrible terrible incident."

"Yes, I only wish I could have said something at the time."

"You shouldn't blame yourself. You must be wondering why you're here." Tom nodded. "Well we've received an owl from St. Mungo's. It seems that Miss Hawthorne has been requesting to speak with you. I know you must be somewhat apprehensive to be near such a person but perhaps if you could visit her it would help her cope. It seems your status as Head Boy was a right choice. That girl from what Professor Dumbledore says hasn't seemed to open up to anyone but you."

"If she is asking for me I'll go." Tom said, his suspicion ebbing for a moment.

"Good good. I'll inform the Healers. You can go tomorrow, Saturday you know. Wouldn't want you to miss any classes, not that it would affect you." Dippet laughed his nervous, pathetic laugh and Tom narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Well off you go then."

"Thank you Sir." Dumbledore escorted him all the way back to his portrait hole, speaking about nonsense all the way.

"Good night Professor."

"Good night Tom. Headmaster Dippet has asked me to inform you that you are relieved from your Head Boy duties tonight, he thinks you should have a good night's rest."

"Please give him my thanks Sir."

"Of course." Tom watched the older wizard walk off down the hallway with a dark look in his eyes. He sneered at the sound of the fool humming a popular Muggle tune.

The next morning found Tom Riddle outside the door of Hel's hospital room. Slughorn had run off down the hall to talk to a past student. He took the handle and pushed the door open, closing it behind him with a click. Hel looked completely awful. In only a few days she managed to lose weight and color. The darkness under her eyes had become darker and had increased in size.

"Tom Riddle." She had left out Marvolo. He was contemplating whether it was purposeful or not. "I see you've received the owls." Her voice was weak, her eyes more dull than they were supposed to. Despite her appearance she looked healthy enough to make it through. He knew it, she knew it, and the Healers most likely knew it also.

"Yes. If I had known you were going to kill yourself I would have tried to say something." He hoped that she was still coherent enough to pick up on his hints.

"Well, I didn't think I would either." There was a clue. "To think I forgot my bracelet was rather stupid of me. I wonder where it is." And another.

"You should have been more careful. For a Ravenclaw you are surprisingly dimwitted." _Give me a hint as to who did it._ She laughed except it was nice sounding, almost musical. Why wasn't it as chilling as before?

"You know, the hat honestly didn't know where to put me but decided that Ravenclaw would be best. Very adamant against Gryffindor though." A Gryffindor.

"Do you remember what I told you by the Black Lake and in the Infirmary?" Of course he remembered. Her last clue perhaps? "You really are destined for great things." Hel's smile showed she was pleased but he could see the twinges of melancholy that interlaced through it. Why did his chest suddenly feel strange?

"You should rest."

"Yes, I think so, otherwise I won't be able to fend off what comes out of the wall. It must be starving by now without me having painted it for a while." Tom didn't know what to make of her words.

"I suppose I will be seeing you sometime soon Miss Hawthorne." She gave him a curious look.

"Yes, I suppose Mr. T. M. Riddle." She touched his left arm meaningfully. "Don't forget your legacy." The Dark Mark she meant. Tom gave her a reassuring smile before taking her hand and brushing his lips across the back of it before placing a light kiss on her knuckles.

"Never." The scene was broken when a Healer came in.

"Sorry to interrupt but she needs her peace." Tom stood and walked through the now open door straight into Slughorn who was already pushing for their exit. He glanced back at Hel's door before following his Professor out of the building. There was something nagging at him, as if that look meant something.

Hel's death had been announced the next day at diner. He felt his chest tighten momentarily at the announcement. Her recovery had been unstable but she seemed like she would make it until she went into respiratory arrest. The entire hall was buzzing once again. There was no mention of a funeral so Tom assumed that her grandfather had planned on either a private one or none at all.

"What's on your mind Tom?" Lestrange asked as Tom perused the Gryffindor line from where he sat. No one looked guilty enough to be the one.

"Nothing. Have you spoken to your father?"

"Yes, he says that he'd love to help. You just need to tell him what you'd like him to do."

"Excellent. The rest of the year is going to be quite busy." Lestrange's smile was predatory.

The rest of the year had been busy for Tom and his fellows and he still wasn't any closer to uncovering Hel's killer. He went over the facts again and again: There was some sort of manipulation with her memory or otherwise. Her bracelet would lead her to the right person. It was a Gryffindor. And there was something in what she said at the Lake or in the Infirmary that was important. There was that one line: "You know, you're the only other person that's ever come to see me by the lakeside." Was that a clue also?

Tom's seventh year came and went and he had graduated without finding the person. It was always in the back of his mind but he could do nothing. To everyone it was a clear case of attempted and somewhat successful suicide but he knew better. He always knew better.

It was more than a half a century later that Lord Voldemort found himself in the Headmaster's office once again. The side of the Light had fallen, The-Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die had finally perished, and Albus Dumbledore was a prisoner down in the dungeons of his own beloved school. Thanks to a spell he created the older wizard had been stripped of all his magic and left so weakened he was barely able to stand. He had positioned Bella, Rodolphus, and Rebastian outside his cell for precaution. The Dark Lord walked around the room, it was filled with various forms of useless junk in his opinion. He sneered at the bowl of lemon drops on the desk. He never understood why Dumbledore insisted on Muggle candy when the Wizarding kind was far superior. He sat at the desk looking through the various items often banishing the ones he felt unimportant, it wasn't as if Dumbledore was going to need them anymore. He opened a small drawer and found nothing but odd buttons and Muggle knickknacks upon first inspection. In the very back he came across a small box, curious he pulled it out and opened the top. His eyes flashed when he recognized what was inside. Taking the contents he started his ways towards the dungeons.

"My Lord." Severus Snape was surprised to find the Dark Lord at the entrance to his chambers so early after the battle and their victory. As soon as Potter fell he knew that the Light was to be defeated and changed his actions accordingly, stunning and battling Order Members and not bothering to be lax with his aim any longer. He was a spy and did things for his own interests.

"Severus, I need a Strengthening Solution and a small vial of Veritaserum." The Dark Lord was going to question prisoners? Snape did as he was told and deposited the two items in Voldemort's hand. The darkest wizard of the time stared at the two solutions as he moved them about his hand. "You will accompany me as I interrogate your previous master and superior." He was going to question Albus Dumbledore? Snape thought that he would have made it a public event ending with a round of torture for the wizard.

"Very well." He stood straighter as he followed his master down a flight of steps to the holding cells within the castle. Thanks to the Carrows, all of Filch's prized possessions hung on the walls, intimidating the inhabitants of the enormous room. Almost all of the prisoners had been stripped of their magic and awaited the decision that would state their fate. He could see familiar faces eying him with detest before turning their head's away. Yes, Hermione Granger, she really was the brightest witch of her age. It was a shame that she wouldn't join the Dark Lord. Perhaps he could convince her otherwise before her death or enslavement was announced.

The once proud and mighty Albus Dumbledore sat before them. The Dark Lord placed his own Silencing Charms on the cell so that only Severus and himself could hear what the man had to say.

"To think that I had missed such an obvious thing." Snape steeled his expression but was very interested in what was to happen. The Dark Lord seemed much angrier now. Albus on the other hand just looked up at him with an air of defiance. "Administer the potions Severus." The Potions Master nodded before tipping the Strengthening Solution into the man's mouth. When he was satisfied with the change he put six drops of Veritaserum onto the older wizard's tongue, usually three would do the deed but he doubled the dose just in case Albus were to fight the serum.

"What is your name?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"When is your day of birth?"

"August 5th, 1881."

"What three items did you give to Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jean Granger towards the beginning of their seventh year?" Not many knew the answer to this question and Voldemort was sure that if Dumbledore answered this under Veritaserum he would be safe to proceed without having the wizard fight off the effects of the solution.

"The Golden Snitch, my Deluminator, and a copy of _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_ respectively." Both Severus and Voldemort nodded their heads in agreement: that was correct. The Dark Lord dangled the contents of the box in front of the older wizard and began.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Medical bracelet from St. Mungo's."

"Correct. Do you know to whom this particular bracelet belongs?"

"Miss Hel Hawthorne." Voldemort grinned dangerously and Severus unconsciously took a step back from the pair.

"Correct again. And why is such an object in your possession?"

"I took it from Miss Hawthorne while she was in the hospital wing all those years ago." The Dark Lord slipped the silver bracelet into his pocket.

"Why did she ingest the Draught of Living Death?"

"Because I forced her with an Imperius Curse." Severus Snape looked at Albus with a strange look. The man had used an Unforgivable Curse on a student?

"Why did she not recover at the hospital?"

"I recommended they use one of the sleeping potions brewed by Horace Slughorn, but it was actually brewed by myself. It was far too concentrated. I knew she would overdose."

"Why did you kill her?"

"I was afraid she would help you with your conquest. She was a dangerous and unstable factor at the time. I couldn't just stand by while you decided to add her to your list of followers. Her grandfather was a powerful force within the Pureblood class." Voldemort nodded before motioning to Snape that they were finished. Once outside the cell he called to Bellatrix.

"Tomorrow we will decide upon Dumbledore's punishment, I trust you and Severus to think of something unique as well as satisfying." Bella's eyes gleamed with delight, oh how she hated the old man.

"Of course My Lord." She bowed before once again taking her post outside the door. He left Snape there as he made his way towards the infirmary which was filled with injured Death Eaters and a few Healers who were tending to the sick and dying. He didn't enter; instead he glanced at a bed: second row, third from the window which was currently occupied by one of his followers. After years and years he knew the truth, finally. The Dark Lord walked towards the nearest exit and stepped outside, crossed the vast lawn quickly and stood by the Black Lack. He stood there motionless for a few minutes before gently releasing his wand from the holster within his sleeve.

"Morsmordre." The Dark Mark burned into the sky, the snake moving in a constant motion in and out of the outlined skull. The light from the mark reflected off the lake in an eerie display of illumination. That was her contribution and this was the only way he could think to commemorate her death. He watched her creation until it was reduced to tendrils of smoky haze. There was an almost silent plop as something delicate and silver was thrown into the lake, the waves from the object breaking the surface not even making it anywhere close to the now empty shoreline.

The End.


End file.
